“No. We will make do with current manpower.”
Guereca sighed, “Okay.”
“If you’re not up for the miss
ion, I will get someone else.”
“No, no. I’m ready.”
“Good,” Holland said as he downed the first drink, and poured a second. “Tomorrow it begins.”
Samir and Crystal pulled into the parking lot of the Fast Trak Truck Stop in Fabens at sunrise. Crystal wore no bra, and her open blouse showed tanned skin all the way to her belly button. She turned in the seat and said, “Think this’ll work?” She shook her shoulders so her breasts wriggled under the thin fabric.
Samir said, “That would get a dead man’s attention.” He maneuvered the car to a space near the big rigs. They sat in the truck for five minutes, then Samir pointed, “There he comes, just like clockwork.”
Crystal shook her breasts again and said, “Wish me luck.”
As she opened the door, Samir said, “You don’t need luck with those puppies bouncing like that.” Crystal blew him a kiss and walked among the trucks, making sure the silencer-equipped Walther .22 pistol was hidden in the waistband of her pants and covered by the loose blouse.
She spotted the tanker truck and saw the man approaching. Crystal waited until he opened the cab door to walk to him. She smiled, “Hi.”
He stopped, then he stared. “Oh, hey there. Hi.”
She bent forward, pretending not to notice how her blouse opened, and said, “I hate to ask, but could you give me a ride?”
“I’m not supposed to take people on routes with me. Sorry.” He looked regretful.
Crystal stepped very close to him and traced the backs of her fingernails up his forearm, giving him a full look. “Are you sure? I could make it worth your while.” She leaned into him so her breasts rested on either side of his bicep.
He looked around, saw no one else, “I don’t guess it would hurt anything. You’re not gonna tell anybody I gave you a ride, are you?”
She smiled, “My lips are sealed.”
He grinned nervously and stepped into the cab, reaching across to open the passenger side door. Crystal hopped in and climbed into the camper bed behind the seats. “I’ll wait back here until we get someplace less crowded, okay?”
He said, “Yeah, that’s great. Make yourself comfortable.”
She picked up the small pillow on the bed and showed him, “I will.” When he started the engine, Crystal put the pillow to the back of his head like she was playing with him.
Then she pushed the silenced barrel of the Walther into the pillow and shot him twice.
He slumped to the side and she held the pillow to his head as she pulled out her phone and dialed. When Samir answered, she said, “Done.”
Samir arrived and helped Crystal maneuver the still quivering body into the camper and cover it with the blanket. She took out the man’s wallet and handed it to Samir, then exited the cab. Samir slid into the driver’s chair, working the gears to drive out of the truck stop. Crystal followed in the pickup.
The two vehicles retraced the same route Samir had driven before, going five miles an hour below the speed limit, not drawing attention, travelling east on Interstate Ten to Fort Hancock. They exited the interstate and drove the dusty roads that passed beyond the small town and through the fields. The two vehicles crossed the dry Rio Grande River ninety minutes after hijacking the tanker truck.
They stopped once at an arroyo and carried the body into it, where they used shovels from the pickup to cover the corpse. A mile into Mexico, Crystal took the lead so she could open and close the ranch gates while Samir drove the tanker truck through them.
It was long, tiring work. In preparation for the drive, they outfitted the pickup with a mechanical winch, large jacks, shovels, and several rolls of mats to put under the wheels for traction in sandy areas.
The supplies proved valuable, and over the next six hours, they used them all at least once, with the worst part being when they drove the primitive road past Los Frailes and through the pass where the road was the dry streambed of a shallow creek.
Made of sand, gravel and rocks, the loose soil constantly shifted under the tanker truck’s wheels, sinking them deep. But the man and woman dug them out each time, and used the winch to get across the softer areas as they continued through the desert toward the ranch on the Rio Conchos.
Staying off the main roads was important, because there would be no explanation for where they were taking a tanker of liquid chlorine, even though Samir replaced the Texas plates with the Mexican plates Guereca gave him at the car wash. Closer to Ojinaga they would be fine, but not here in the middle of nowhere.
They reached the ranch an hour after sunset, and parked the tanker truck in the big barn, beside the Cessna since the helicopter was gone.